


Where the Ocean Meets the Land

by lizook12



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Half of her is dying to roll her eyes while the other half has the undeniable urge to kiss him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Ocean Meets the Land

He takes a drink, listens to the waves roll against the shore as she stops and shades her eyes from the fading sun. Turning back towards him, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and continues to walk, the water lapping at her feet.

It's strange—foreign—to so happily be away from the office. Even just six months ago, it would have seemed unreal to him, and not because he's here with her. No, they've been together much longer, but Jessica's retirement—and her subsequent inability to stop checking in on the office—had clarified what was important.

How vital a weekend or a few days without thinking of a goddamn memo was.

Not that he was lazy, he was still as driven and focused as ever (hell, Donna took almost as much pride in her work as he did), but their weekends were much more relaxing now.

They'd gone to almost every Giants home game of the season instead of giving the tickets to clients, had spent a weekend in Cooperstown, and the holidays in Aspen, but she'd been set on the beach—more than one coastal bookmark had shown up on his computer and there was that post-it detailing the new swimsuits she was thinking about buying—for their summer vacation.

So here he was, shoes flung on the sand behind him, watching her skirt blow in the ocean breeze. He still didn't love the combination of wet feet and sand, but there was something freeing about warmth between his toes, the lull of the spray on the shore and the way she smiled, the sun in her hair, her shoes brushing against her thigh as she walked.

Standing, he takes a pull from his beer, double checks to make sure the grill is off and starts toward her. She's tracking the progress of a hermit crab so she doesn't notice him coming until it's too late and she's been tackled into the ocean, waves crashing around them.

"No wonder you stuck to baseball."

He raises an eyebrow, hands settling low on her waist, pulling her closer as his mouth drifts across her jaw. "Oh?"

"Yes. That was..." She laughs, head tipping back as the slightly cool water soaks through her skirt. "The worst tackle I've ever seen _and_ you had the element of surprise on your side."

"Mmm, I guess I just decided it was more important to master other things."

A soft, mischievous smile— _her_ smile—spreads across his face then and half of her is dying to roll her eyes while the other half has the undeniable urge to kiss him.

She goes with the latter, her shoes thudding against his lower back as she wraps her arm around his waist and closes the little space between them.

He's warm, welcoming, the perfect contrast to the water splashing against them. She sighs, eyes slipping shut as his tongue strokes over hers and he buries his hand in her hair.

Laughter from the other end of the beach registers and she breaks away, grinning as he bows his head, forehead resting against her shoulder, and pulls in breath after shaky breath.

They stay that way for several long minutes before she steps out of his embrace and heads towards the shore. She's almost there when she stops and turns, the corner of her mouth lifting as he runs his hand through his hair and slowly starts to follow. Dropping her shoes to the ground, she grimaces as water seeps out of the soles and he sidles up next to her.

"Rest in peace, Kate Spades. You served me well."

She winks at him and a night from three years ago comes rushing back: her feet in his lap, sharing a glass of Scotch to celebrate his name on the wall, and then—

"You'll have to buy me a new pair."

Laughing, he picks up the shoes and starts chasing her back to their rental house, wet feet and sand completely forgotten. "Will three be enough?"


End file.
